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It was much better to imagine men in some smokey
room somewhere, made mad and cynical by privilege and power, plotting
over brandy. You had to cling to this sort of image, because if you
didn’t then you might have to face the fact that bad things happened
because ordinary people, the kind who brushed the dog and told the
children bed time stories, were capable of then going out and doing
horrible things to other ordinary people. It was so much easier to blame
it on Them. It was bleakly depressing to think that They were Us.–Terry Pratchett, Jingo